I got the idea while listening to the news on the radio, during another grinding commute home from the big city. It seemed a couple in Florida had gotten so sick and tired of their spoiled, neglectful children that they were camping outside their house in beach chairs, refusing to go back to being parents until their brats knuckled under.

As I write this tale of woe, the sight of manicured fingers flitting over my keyboard evokes the utter misery of my situation. Not long ago, I was vice president of a major pharmaceutical firm, with a six figure salary and a corner office. Now I am sitting in a secretary’s cubicle, trying to keep from snagging my pantyhose each time I escape from my pathetic little desk. How did this ever happen to me?

My twin sister stuck out her tongue as she crept in front of the baseline. We had played against each other countless times, and it always seemed to come down to this, a long deuce or a tiebreaker at the end of a tense, competitive match. Although I was a boy and she was a girl, we were evenly matched, and I sometimes felt that the only edge I had over her was that she had to wear a tennis dress or skirt at the uber-conservative club that our parents belonged to.

I never set foot in Grover Cleveland High School again. My spectacular appearance as a boozy, topless bimbo at the senior prom touched off a near riot which got me suspended for the rest of the year, and it was only because the powers-that-be never wanted to see me again that they let me graduate with my class. My “date” enlisted in the Marines, I headed west to make my fortune, and Dullsville USA was soon forgotten.

Twenty years! It’s hard to believe that much time has gone by since I limped out of Grover Cleveland High, at the bottom of my class, prospects zero. My sole achievement was the dubious designation as Class Clown, in recognition of outrageous pranks which got me suspended twice and almost expelled. The last, which nearly ruined the senior prom for everyone, featured me disguised as a girl in a long halter gown. More on that later.

I lay there in stunned silence, my death sentence ringing in my ears. “I have H.I.V,” Ron just told me. How many times had I warned myself about the dangers of dating on Craigslist? How many guys had I blown off because of the teeniest suspicion that they might not be safe?

I paid the cabbie and hurried up a few steps to a side entrance to the Palmer House. It was still unlocked, and I let myself in and made my way quickly down a deserted shopping arcade. I was grateful for the solitude, conspicuous as I must have been in my taffeta dress, shawl and stilettos, but I didn’t encounter a soul all the way to a bank of elevators.

I think I’m in the clear for now. The police have come and gone, and the hotel staff has cleared the hallway outside my room. If I could, I’d try to get some sleep, but after what I’ve just been through, that would be difficult. So I’ll try to write down exactly what happened this week, while it’s fresh in my mind, in case my lawyer needs it in the morning.

The cellphone in my purse rang insistently as I pulled into the parking space outside my apartment. I fished it out and glanced down to see whether I should answer as a man or a woman. It was Jim! “I thought you were on your honeymoon. Had it with married life already?”
“It’s a long story, bro. I’m on my way over.”
“Over from where?”

It will be billed as “Fear Factor” meets “The Bachelor”. Out of twenty-four contestants vying for the right to marry Mr. Right, one will secretly be a guy. If “she” survives the elimination rounds and makes it into the finals, when intimacy is to be expected prior to the climactic episode, all bets are off.

Andrea Messenger tossed the pitch sheet onto the tablecloth and poured skim milk into her muesli. Where did Hap come up with these ideas?

BERKELEY: Atrazine, one of the world's most widely used pesticides, wreaks havoc with the sex lives of adult male frogs, emasculating three-quarters of them and turning one in 10 into females, according to a new study by University of California, Berkeley biologist Hung Lo.

For those who came in late, Matt McCoy — now Madeline Moreau — is on the run for a crime he did not commit, and a murder which she did….after learning about her secret girlhood, Maddy spreads her wings...and more.

TG Elements:

TG Themes:

Publication:

What will Donna Mae Trix get her girlfriend for Valentine’s Day?Could a cruise be the cure for the wintertime blues?The continuing misadventures of Miss Anne Thrope, by the author of The Jessica Project.

Will our scoundrel-turned-damsel survive the office holiday party? What will she find in her Christmas stockings? The continuing misadventures of Miss Anne Thrope, by the author of The Jessica Project.